John's Little Soldier
by LoveStoryFanatic
Summary: AU: When Dean and Sam are just kids, John comes home drunk like he usually does. Dean refuses to back down, to give in. He stands tall in order to protect his little brother. He's John's little soldier and he will do anything and everything to keep his brother from harm. Warning: Brutal, abuse...may bring tears. Very short, sorry


**Disclaimer: I do not own SPN or the characters.**

**This is an AU. When they were kids. Pretty brutal, so...yeah. Beware, you have been warned.**

**This is the shortest thing I have ever posted and probably will EVER post. I just felt it was done. I wrote most of it quite a while ago and just found it again. I write a few sentences and put a DONE stamp on it. So...here you go!**

Dean squeezed his eyes against the pain. He had to hold on. For Sammy's sake, he had to hold on. If he didn't, John would go after Sam next and Dean just couldn't have that.

He told himself that John was a good father. He was. It was only when John would lose himself in alcohol, blinded by his misery and pain from losing Mary, that he would mimic the very things he hunts and kills. Dean knew that John never meant it. He never meant any of it.

Dean still wore the faded leather jacket his father had thrown at him one winter day to keep from catching a cold. He still listened to the same songs, memorizing their lyrics so he could impress his Dad the next time they were on the road. He still followed every order, every command he was given. He still held his promise to look after Sammy. He would always do that.

Another blow of pain struck through Dean's body. He was forcing all of his strength into not collapsing, not curling into a tiny ball and trying to disappear. He wanted the pain to stop, desperately, but he even more he wanted to protect his brother. He _needed _to protect his brother.

"You insignificant, good for nothing, little shit! How is it that Sam's the one with the good grades, never gets a single bad grade? You're the oldest! You're supposed to teach him, not the other way around! That just proves my point. You'll never make something of yourself. All you're destined to be is another grave in the ground labeled: hunter. That's all you'll ever be good enough for."

Dean clenched his eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the words. He thought of his mom, of her singing him to sleep when he was little. He thought of her telling him that angels are looking out for him. He thought of her sweet touch as she rocked him to sleep after a nightmare. He tried desperately to use those images to block out the horrible words being flung his way.

Dean knew John didn't mean any of it. He couldn't mean any of it. Dean was his soldier, his perfect little soldier. He followed every order. He did everything he was told. He protected Sammy from the monsters hiding under the bed, or the ones creeping into the window at night. He sat awake through the night, standing guard over his little brother on several occasions, just to make sure nothing snuck by him in the dead of night.

Dean always made sure he was up before Sam, that way he could make him breakfast and get him to school on time. He made sure Sam got all of his homework done and got good grades, though Sam had never needed his help for that.

Dean was always there when Sam would fall and hurt himself or when another kid would push him around. He was the big brother, the protector. No harm would come to Sammy as long as Dean was nearby. He made sure of that.

Another blow came, this one more powerful than the others. It knocked Dean to his knees, unable to keep standing any longer.

"You weakling! I thought I trained you better than that! Maybe you won't even be good enough to be a hunter. You disappoint me."

Dean took a deep breath, ignoring the searing pain in his lungs, in his back, his legs, everywhere. He wanted to cry, scream, lash out, but he remained still. If he attempted to fight back in any way, it would only make things worse. He had learned that the hard way.

John threw his hand out and backhanded Dean across the cheek, sending him crashing to the ground hard. John spat on the ground near where Dean was before stalking away, clearly satisfied for the night.

Dean released a sigh, letting most of his strength dissipate. He laid there on the floor for a while, not being able to muster up the strength to move. He didn't know how long he laid there before he heard Sam start to stir. He was having another nightmare.

Dean pulled himself to his feet and dragged his aching, sore, beaten and almost broken body to where Sam lay, tossing and turning. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his little brother. As soon as Sam felt his touch, the tossing stilled and the lines on his face relaxed.

"Sh, Sammy. It's alright. I've got you. Nothing's gonna hurt you while I got you. You're safe."

Dean drifted off to sleep holding his little brother, trying not to think about what the next night would bring him.


End file.
